


you don't believe in god, I don't believe in luck

by wordslinging



Category: Bunraku (2010)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:11:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5127125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinging/pseuds/wordslinging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An open-ended series of ficlets exploring what happens after (and occasionally during, and maybe before?) the events of the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched this movie and now it will not let go of my brain, which means fic. Loosely connected, writing scenarios as they occur to me, mostly Drifter/Yoshi with a smidge of (mostly one-sided crush-having) Momoko/Drifter fic.
> 
> First part is set during the events of the film and doesn't entirely fit into the movie's timeline, but let's just...pretend it does. And yes, out of all the ways I could have chosen to start this, unplanned voyeurism on Momoko's part was what I went with. ¯\\(°_o)/¯

Yoshi convinces the drifter to stay the night with them; everyone, including the man himself, seems surprised when he agrees. They don't discuss the medallion any further, but it hangs in the air like an unseen weight. Momoko's still convinced the drifter's lying about not having seen it, and she's sure Yoshi thinks so, too, but for whatever reason--patience, gratitude--he lets it be for now.

Liar or not, Momoko finds the stranger intriguing. Handsome, mysterious, dangerous--he's exactly the sort of man she's always been told she should be wary of, but he's been kind as well. She can't help but be curious, and it's that curiosity that leads her down the hall to the spare room after Father's in bed and she should probably be as well. She doesn't have a plan and she keeps her expectations low. She's just going to knock on the door and ask if he needs anything, and then, well, she'll see what happens.

Only when she gets there, the door is slightly ajar and she can hear two voices, low but heated. She moves up to the door, doing her best to make no noise, and peers in to see Yoshi standing with his arms folded, the drifter facing him with arms at his sides but hands clenched.

"Why don't you tell me the truth?" Yoshi asks, and the man cocks his head to the side, a look on his face that promises danger.

"Call me a liar one more time and see how well I take it," he says, his voice gravelly. 

Yoshi steps closer, putting himself right in the other man's space and lifting his chin to meet his eyes. "If you don't want to be called a liar, perhaps you should stop lying," he says calmly.

The drifter's swing seems lightning-fast to Momoko, but Yoshi's ready, catching the man's fist in one hand. His lifts his other hand to the man's shoulder as if to push him away, but now it's the drifter's turn to react, fingers closing tight around Yoshi's wrist.

Each of them tugs against the other's hold but fails to break free immediately, and for a moment they just stand there straining against each other. They seem fairly evenly matched in strength despite their difference in size, and Momoko watches them, waiting to see what breaks the stalemate.

She's not expecting it to be the stranger leaning down and crushing his lips against Yoshi's.

From the way Yoshi stiffens, he wasn't expecting it either. He holds still, and after a moment the stranger pulls back, eyes moving quickly over Yoshi's face, expression a mix of wariness and hope. 

Yoshi lets go of the man's fist and brings two fingers to his own lips, looking thoughtful. His other hand is still on the stranger's shoulder, fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, and he uses that hold to tug the man forward again. They kiss like they're still fighting, fierce and messy. Yoshi runs one hand up into the man's sleek brown hair, and the stranger curls a hand around Yoshi's waist, gripping hard.

Momoko watches them, lips parted, cheeks burning. She's aware that she's crossed a line between normal curiosity and something else, that she goes further past that line every second she keeps watching, but she can't move. She can barely blink. She's terrified that one of them will catch sight of her, but they seem oblivious to anything that's not each other.

Still kissing, the two men stumble backward. The drifter hits the thin wall behind him with enough force that it shudders, but doesn't break. He swears under his breath and Yoshi laughs softly, turning them around and steering toward the low bed. The drifter grabs him around the waist again, pressing frantic kisses to Yoshi's face, his jawline, his neck. Momoko's never thought of her cousin as small before, but the other man looms over him, wrapping strong arms around Yoshi's more slender frame.

The stranger topples back onto the bed with a thud, pulling Yoshi with him. Yoshi settles on top of him, straddling his lap as his deft fingers work on the man's buttons. In response, the drifter tugs at the sash of Yoshi's kimono and shoves a hand past the collar, pushing the fabric off one shoulder.

They don't bother to undress much more than that, which is probably a good thing; Momoko feels enthralled and guilty enough as it is. Yoshi gets the drifter's vest unbuttoned and his shirt half open and then reaches down, there's some awkward fumbling and movements Momoko can't see well from her vantage point, and then the drifter tosses his head back with a bitten-off moan.

Yoshi's eyes are closed, and his expression is one of intense concentration. He grabs both the man's wrists and pins them to the mattress above his head, moving against him with a fast, steady rocking motion. The stranger swears again and arches his back, but Momoko can't tell if he's trying to break free or just get closer.

They stay like that for a few moments before the stranger rolls suddenly, pinning Yoshi under him. His hips are moving in quick, hard thrusts, and he bends down to mouth at Yoshi's collarbone. It's Yoshi's turn to stifle a cry, burying his face in the curve of the man's neck, hands moving over his back under his shirt. The stranger turns his head to catch Yoshi's mouth with his, pushing his hands into Yoshi's disheveled hair.

It goes on like that for a little while longer before first Yoshi, then the drifter, shudders and goes still, the noises they make lost in each other's mouths.

The drifter rolls off Yoshi and onto his back, panting for breath. His eyes are closed and there's a small, satisfied smile on his face. Beside him, Yoshi looks both a bit astonished and as happy as Momoko's ever seen him. That makes her feel just as guilty as watching them have sex--that look isn't for her to see any more than the rest of it was.

With the two of them still and quiet now, she's more afraid than ever that if she moves or makes a sound, they'll catch her. She waits until the stranger turns on his side and murmurs something she can't make out, until Yoshi leans in and kisses him, and then she retreats back down the hallway as quietly as she approached, her face still hot and her heart pounding.

In the morning, the drifter is gone before anyone else is awake, and there's a bruise at Yoshi's throat that Father seems not to notice, but that Momoko is certain wasn't there the day before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our boys get set to spend some more time together, and The Drifter gets a name because I don't feel like continuing to refer to one of our main characters solely with epithets.

It figures that after that big dramatic shake-hands-and-walk-off-in-separate-directions moment, they end up on the same damn train out of town. The drifter's already in his seat when Yoshi comes on board, spots him, and smiles like he isn't surprised. The drifter gives him a nod, Yoshi takes the seat across the aisle from him, and they sit quietly as the train hisses and lurches into motion.

After a while, the drifter glances over. "You're headin' home, I take it?" 

Yoshi nods, raising a hand to chest and the medallion tucked into his kimono. "I have to bring this to my father. After that...I'm not sure." He glances at the drifter with a wry look. "What does a man do when the task that's been his sole purpose for years is completed?"

The drifter smiles crookedly. "If I find out, I'll let you know."

They lapse back into companionable silence for a bit, until Yoshi looks over again. 

"You don't have anywhere to go back to? Or...anyone?"

"Nope," the drifter answers shortly. 

He'd buried his mother before setting out to find Nikola. He'd known since he was a boy that going after the Woodcutter was something he'd have to do someday, but not while she was still alive. He was all she had, and no woman deserved to see her husband and son fall to the same man. And she was all he had, so after sickness and hard living put her in the ground, there was nothing left to keep him from the quest for revenge.

He thinks, briefly, about telling Yoshi that, about being the sort of man who could offer up that sort of information about himself.

Yoshi's voice brings him out of his reverie. "You ever been to Japan?" His eyebrows are lifted slightly, and it's pretty clearly an invitation rather than just a question. 

The drifter looks at him, considering, and then slouches back in his seat with a grin. "As a matter of fact, I haven't."

Yoshi nods with a small smile, like that settles it. "Are you ever going to tell me your name, or should I just give you one?"

The drifter looks over at him, amused. "Well, see, now I'm curious about what sort of name you'd give me."

Yoshi tips his head back, thinking it over. "There are tales I heard growing up," he says after a few seconds. "About a ronin, a lone samurai with no name who traveled the countryside. In one story someone asked who he was and he gave the name Sanjuro, but no one knows if that was his true name or not." He looks back at the drifter, considering. "You don't really strike me as a Sanjuro, though."

"Maybe not," the drifter agrees. "But we have stories like that where I grew up, too, about a lone gunslinger, back in the days when there was such a thing. I never heard any stories where he gave a name, but there were names other folk gave just to have something to call him by. One was Blondie, which doesn't work so well for our purposes. Another was Joe." 

"Joe," Yoshi repeats, and then gives a satisfied nod. "You could be a Joe, I think."

The drifter gives an _I'm easy_ shrug. "Works for me."


End file.
